I've been trying to upload a few chapters recently because I've got exams coming up and I want to leave you guys something to read while I'm busy revising, as I won't have much time to write! Hope you all enjoy!
Almost two week past. Tension cutting through the dorm room with every day that dragged by. Cas was trying to avoid Dean at all costs. He was glad that Dean was back, of course. It had been all he could think about. Clouding over every judgement and action on the build up to his return. Yet with his reappearance came so many questions and very few answers. When they were around each other Cas couldn't rationalise his thoughts, like a puppet cut from his strings. For his own well being he'd decided to distance himself. So he purposely looked in a different direction whenever Dean glanced his way and excused himself it was just the two of them alone.
Dean wouldn't say anything out loud but Castiel's little, dismissive actions were like gunshots to his heart. He tried ignoring the feelings. Drinking for a distraction and flirting with girls at bars. Nothing eased the hurt. He wanted Cas to want him. There were a few times when he considered packing it all in, stuffing his clothes in a bag and driving off. New town. Fresh start. Away from Stanford. Free of Castiel. But whenever he got the duffel bag out from under Sam's bed a nauseous sensation of defeat swamped through. And Dean wouldn't be defeated.
It was a hot Thursday morning. Cas was packing his books into his satchel, tiptoeing around the room as to not wake Dean. He was half-snoozing in Sam's bed, dressed in jeans and a crumpled black t-shirt, still conscious and aware of Cas's footsteps. The soft patter of his shoes against the wooden floorboards near Dean's head. Since he had been back Dean been sleeping rough on the floor so whenever he had the chance he jumped into Sam's bunk.
Cas picked up an orange folder, filled with descriptive notes and highlighted key points, when the binder snapped in his hands. Sheets and sheets of paper fanned out across the room. Typical. He crouched down to retrieve his work, muttering to himself in annoyance.
Dean opened his eyes and lurched up giving Cas a start. They made immediate eye contact. Green staring into blue. This time Cas didn't look away. Eyes swimming in to each other. Dean's hair was a mane of untamed spikes and he combed his hand through to tidy it.
"Need a hand?" He offered, stepping up out of the bed. It was the first words spoken between them for days. Cas tilted his head in the cute, innocent way that Dean admired.
"Yes please," he replied eventually. Dean grinned. He knelt down and began gathering up the sheets. Purposely taking his time. Glancing over to Cas. Soaking in the chance to look at his face. Cas blinked and looked up from the floor. His eyes smiling gratefully, sending flutters to Dean's stomach. They didn't need to say much. It was just nice to be by Cas's side. Helping him.
Cas reached for a piece of paper as Dean moved his arm across and their hands connected. Palms and fingers gingerly smoothing over. Dean felt a spark. He shifted his thumb and rubbed it tenderly along Castiel's fingers, watching Cas gulp in response. They stared at each other. Cas swiped his tongue along his dry lips and Dean nearly whimpered at the teasing sight.
He wanted nothing more than throw Cas down into the papers and fuck him till they both saw stars. The urge was overflowing inside. Skin burning with lust where his hand touched Cas's. Dirty thoughts bubbled in his mind. The wicked things he would do. He could almost feel his dick growing, hardening in his confined jeans. His grip on Castiel's hand tightened.
"Dean.." whispered Cas. Voice nervous and tense, like there was so much he wanted to unload but the words were being strangled in his throat. He fidgeted, lip shivering in fluster.
Dean swallowed hard, preparing himself, "Cas, I-"
"Don't," Cas closed his eyes for a second to regain his composure, "Don't do anything, or say anything, if you don't mean it. It needs to matter. At the beach.. I'm not that kind of person Dean. I don't sleep around for fun. I let my emotions get the better of me but I can't... I won't do it again. Not unless you mean it."
Dean bowed his head, "I understand Cas. I still want you. I don't know what it is. It's crazy, I've never felt this way about anyone. But I want you."
"You want to fuck me," Cas stated blatantly.
Dean shifted his weight awkwardly, "Well, yeah. I do."
"And after? Dean, listen, I get it. This thing we have, it's different. Forbidden. Exciting. But in the end it's just the chase you want," Cas sighed, "You want to fuck me but when all that is done, do you actually want me?"
Dean studied Cas's face. Eyebrows turned up with worry and a glimmer of hope. Expecting Dean to say something. And he wanted to. The words formed on his tongue. He was about to speak up. About to tell Cas that we saw a chance, a future with him. A relationship beyond sex. His mouth opened and then... nothing. His mouth just hung open wordlessly.
Cas pulled his hand away and scooped up more papers, "That's all the answer I needed."
Dean glanced at his hand. Empty and cold without Cas's touch. In a whirlwind moment Castiel scooped up the last of his papers and swooshed out of the door, trench coat tails waving round the doorframe.
Later, at lunchtime, Dean was sprawled out on the grass in the sun with Sam contemplating his next move. How to approach the subject again? How to get Cas to understand?
Sam sat up, his arms a golden colour. He always got tanned. Dean just burned.
"I'm surprised you're still here," Sam said after a sigh.
Dean squinted his eyes at his brother, "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Nothing. It's just I didn't expect you to come back again. This is the longest you've stayed in one place Dean, since the house in Kansas," Sam explained. Dean sat up too and bit his lip. He'd been fooling himself into thinking he was coming back for Sam. It dawned on him that throughout his entire stay with his brother he'd spent more time thinking about Sam's roommate than anything else.
"Dean... Does this have anything to do with Cas?" Sam said, so quietly and almost under his breath that Dean nearly missed what he'd said. Nearly.
"Cas?" He coughed, trying to detach any emotion from his voice.
"I've seen the way you act around each other. The way you look at him. There's an atmosphere. Like you both want to say something but neither of you want to be the first to speak up."
Dean bowed his head.
"You can tell me, Dean," Sam encouraged.
"I don't know how to explain it Sammy. It's Cas. He... I... We... Oh, I don't know. We hooked up."
Sam didn't seem fazed. Dean was kind of alarmed that his baby brother wasn't the in the slightest bit bothered.
"I thought so. And now what?" Sam asked, long hair swishing.
Dean paused, accepting the total absurdity of the whole conversation, "Well now nothing. I tried to tell him how I feel but I couldn't do it. Dude, I'm not equipped for these kinds of situations. I've never had to talk about my feelings and stuff before.."
Sam crossed his legs and stared at his sibling, "And how do you feel, Dean?"
Dean shrugged. This was feeling more and more like a therapy session. But hell he needed it.
"I don't know how to explain it, Sam. When I'm around him I can't think straight. He makes me want to do better, be better. And when he smiles at me I lose my shit."
Sam tossed his head back laughing. Dean blushed profusely and felt his body tense.
"What's so funny?" He snapped angrily.
Sam patted his back, "Aw Dean, it's so obvious it's laughable. You're falling for Cas. How cute. Dean's got a crush." Sam teased a finger into Dean's ribs, tickling his skin.
"Quit it!" Dean batted him away, "It's not funny. I'm a grown man, not a teenager. What do I do?"
Sam giggled, "Well confront him! Tell him what's going on. He's never gonna listen to you if you're not 100% honest. Ask him on a date maybe?"
Dean squirmed uncomfortably, "I don't date Sammy. It's not my style."
"If you want Cas then you gotta make it your style," Sam wagged a finger in his brothers unimpressed face.
"What will people say? What will they think?" Dean murmured quietly after a moment. He'd tried so hard for years to be the perfect hunter, to be just like his Dad. It certainly wasn't part of hunter tradition to settle down with a nice boyfriend.
"Dean, who cares what people think? If this is what you want then go for it. Don't let anyone hold you back."
"Sam, why aren't you weirded out by me and Cas? Dad would freak out," said Dean once he'd digested all Sam had to say.
"I'm not Dad," smiled Sam, "I just want you to be happy."
The floorboards in BRANDY'S were sticky, as always. Cas's shoes practically peeled off the wood as he walked over to the bar. He slung his trench coat on to a barstool and hunted under the bar for the cleaning cupboard key. A jangly bunch of keys linked on a tired piece of string normally hung from the hook by the crates. Today the hook was empty.
"Please not today," Cas groaned. Friday morning sunshine was breaking through the student bar blinds. It was barely dawn. Too early for this kind of shit.
He scanned around the bar for the keys. Hands patting along the black worktop as if they would appear beneath his palms. While he searched he made a whistling sound with his lips. A little tune to ease the tiredness away.
Just when he considered giving up and retreating back to his bed, despite the fact that Dean would be in his room, the sunlight glinted off a metallic clump on top of the bottled beer fridge.
Cas swiped the keys into his hands and stomped over to the cupboard.
"Who the hell put the keys there?" He mumbled to himself while he fiddled around with the cupboard lock. The door jarred open and he stumbled into a black void. Reaching up his hand found the beaded light switch. With a tug the bulb flashed on in the centre of the little, box room. Cas blinked at the harsh brightness.
Metal shelves stacked up to the ceiling and were filled with cleaning products, scrubs and buckets. In one corner was a mop and behind that a broom. Cas grabbed onto a black apron that he'd neatly folded on a shelf beside the door and tied it round his waist. The entire room was organised by his standards. A collection of bright blue disinfectants lined on his left; below them a row of yellow toilet bleach bottles; beneath those were two stacks of mustard-coloured sponges and some dull, red floor cleaner. He'd only been doing the job for a short time but that wasn't going to stop him from creating some kind of system.
Content again he collected a grey, plastic bucket and poured three glugs of wooden floor cleaner into the bottom. Then he took the mop and walked to the back of the bar where the toilets were. At the sink he filled the bucket to half way. Bubbles floated on top of the water. He looked up and faced his mirror reflection. There were bags under his eyes. He'd been working the night before in the gas station and he was marked in to work tonight too. It was going to be a long day.
Suddenly his limbs felt heavy and weak as he carried the bucket through to front of the bar. He stuck the mop into the bucket, pulled it back out and began sloshing soapy water around the floor.
When he'd finished dragging the bucket around the entire bar, soaking the wooden floor till it shined, his phone started to ring from his coat pocket. Tiptoeing between the drying spots Cas manoeuvred over to where the bleeping sounded, yet when his hand grasped the phone the call stopped. He sighed. Typical.
"If it's important they'll call back," he mumbled to himself. He continued his cleaning, scrubbing down all the optics and shining the brass beer pulls. Retrieving the polish from the cupboard he started wiping down the tables. He worked relentlessly till he was at the front of the building rubbing down the last round table. Lost in thought his heart jumped when a loud knocking rattled against the door.
Wonderingly he walked across and turned the handle. Dean stood before him. Sunlight hit the tips of his hair. He looked flustered and strange. All the confidence and swag he once had drained from his stance. Cas stepped aside and gestured for Dean to come in, which he did. Slowly Cas closed the door and turned to face him.
"D-Dean?" He stammered, "What are you doing here?"
Dean walked right up to him, so they were face to face, palms sweating as he tried to hold back his nervous shakes, "I've come to ask you out on a date."
"A date?" Cas was floored.
"Yes," Dean reached out and took a trembling hold of Cas's unsure hands, "I was thinking about asking you last night, then you had work so I couldn't, and I know it's early but I tried calling. You didn't answer and I just.. I had to ask you. I had to know... I like you Cas. A lot. It's more than just sex. And, if you want it too, I'd like to date you. I've never done this before and I can't promise I'm going to be perfect all the time but I'd like to try. I'd like us to try."
Cas couldn't make words come out of his lips. He knew in the back of his mind that this was the last thing he should be doing, after all the drama and reservations, but he felt powerless to stop it. So he nodded. Yes.
Dean's breath graced on his lips. The dangerous closeness making a hot rash crawl over his skin. He was helpless to do anything. A shiver bit up his spine as Dean kissed him. He tilted his head and the kiss deepened. It was so passionate that Cas's knees almost fell apart beneath him, Dean's hands fisting his hair the only thing keeping him from crumbling there and then.
Somehow Cas managed to break away long enough to catch air. Breathlessly he let Dean push him back till his ass hit against a gleaming, polished table. Their lips locked together again. Dean was being so forward and it made Cas's dick tent his trousers, his body running on adrenaline.
Dean pecked at his neck, fingers fumbling to untie the apron around his waist, hands brushing the curve in his back. He grunted in Cas's ear frustrated.
"Ah fuck it!" He swore, voice heavy and dripping with desperation. He grabbed Cas's arms and spun him round, pressing up against his back, cock rubbing into his jeans and forcing him over the table. Cas jutted forward and his arms splayed out onto the table. Dean was rock hard and Cas could feel the head of his dick prodding into the back of his trousers. He peered over his shoulder and bit his lip. Dean was so big and hard for him. It made his heart stammer to savour the thought.
Dean tugged at Cas's trouser buttons and they popped open. His jeans sagged on his hips temptingly. Cas gulped as he watched. Dean looked wild. Lips red and jungle green eyes staring down at him, feasting on his body. His throat clenched in anticipation as Dean's fingers teased at the rim of his jeans and underwear. Delicately he fanned his hands around the tight trouser fabric, brushing over the back pockets. He squeezed and then ripped the jeans down off the curve of Cas's butt, taking the boxers down with them in one hot movement. Cas's erection bobbed up freely. Swollen and red and dribbling clear pre-cum down the shaft. A droplet fell to the newly cleaned floor.
"Stay there," Dean commanded, standing back. Cas stilled. Face pressed against the wood, breathing heavy. His heart thumping in his rib cage. Chest rising and falling on the table. A strong, fresh, pine scent floating up from the polish into his nose.
Dean crouched. He licked his lips and slipped the tip of his finger into the pool of pre-cum collecting between Cas's legs. Cas felt a euphoric tremble surge to his core as he eyed Dean down near his cock, finger glistening with his liquid. Dean opened his lips and stuck his soaked finger deep into his mouth, suckling on the taste of Cas. Eyes shut. Moaning. Cas's mouth hung open in shock.
Dean opened his eyes and pulled his finger out of his mouth with a pop. He smirked. Cas felt weak. His cock strained between his thighs.
"You taste as good as you look," Dean smiled, breath warm against the hairs on the back of Cas's leg. Slowly, still in his crouched position, he edged nearer to Castiel's hole. With him bent over the table, legs slightly apart, Dean was at the perfect angle to admire Cas's tight, beckoning ass. He leaned in closer and blew gently on the rim of pink flesh. Cas moaned.
"Like that, huh Cas?" Dean asked, settling a hand on one of his exposed butt cheeks.
Cas mumbled, "Feels good."
"I'm the only one who can make you feel that good," Dean whispered. Then he plunged his mouth onto Cas's bud, swiping his long, flat tongue in a swift lick, flicking the end against the hole. Cas juddered at the sensation. He made intolerable, enlightened groans of pleasure as Dean cared for him. His nails dug into the table and his eyes fluttered in disbelief. He'd never experience such a spine-tingling pleasure in all his life.
It was sloppy. Dean's mouth watered with saliva and it trickled around Cas's hole till he dragged it up and around, catching the flavour with his lips. A taste that was purely Cas. This was the first time Dean had ever done this to a guy. He knew how to eat out a girl, where to lick and what folds of skin would make her scream his name, but with Cas it was a different. He actually took the time to discover and map which areas of flesh made his lover whimper contently.
When Cas began squirming around, knees bending to push his ass into Dean's warm mouth, Dean couldn't help smiling to himself. He loved that he could make Cas convulse and twist in such a way with the brush of his tongue. Urged on by Castiel's rotating hips he burrowed deeper, pushing his tongue into the muscle. His cock throbbed jealously in his pants, desperate to sink into the delicious hole.
Cas felt his mind was shattered. The sinful way his body uncontrollably rolled into Dean's tongue was obscene. Everything about this man; the way he kissed, the way he dirty talked, the way he touched, it all sent goosebumps over Cas's skin.
Eventually Dean pulled himself away. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and stood up. Cas began to rise from the table but Dean placed a hand onto his back and pressed him down into the wood, all sweaty and fogged up from his body.
"Stay right there," he said in a cool tone. Cas obliged, adoring having Dean's forceful grip holding him in place. He heard the undeniable slide of a zipper and suddenly a hot, moist cock was forcing into his prepared ass. Dean clenched his grip on Cas's back, steadying himself with both hands now that his dick was in position.
"Need this Cas. Need you," groaned Dean as his rod melted into the soft hole. Cas was in a daze, his ass swallowing the cock till he felt balls slapping against his flesh. The muscles inside him milking Dean's erection hungrily.
"Fuck me Dean," Cas managed to pant, aching with want.
Dean didn't even start slow this time. He couldn't control himself. He went straight into rapid thrusts, sending buzzes into Cas's veins whenever his cock struck his prostate. It burned for a few minutes but soon that faded away to pure, wicked delirium. Dean puffed while he frantically fucked into Cas, breath becoming hitched when he began to collide into him faster, their bodies slick with sweat. Cas loved the way Dean moved, dragging his cock in and out of him with inarticulate grunts. All he could hear, apart from the ringing of molten pleasure in his ears, were the words 'Cas' and 'yes'. It spurred him on and he tried to squeeze his ass tighter.
"Ah yes! Just like that!" Dean shouted, tossing his head back, adoring the thick muscles coiling around his dick. His hands slipped down to where the apron ties were still knotted beside Cas's ass. His fingers tightened around the dangling chords of fabric and Cas's body shivered when he felt Dean grinding into him, hands gripping on the apron strings like they were reigns. The apron dug into Cas's skin as it was tugged up but he didn't even feel any discomfort. His senses instead focussed on the intense leverage Dean now had; the way he bucked up and then leaned over and peppered Cas's back with kisses.
Cas knocked his head over his shoulder and gazed back at Dean while he was being fucked, body pinned to the spot. His brow turned in seriousness and his stare was heavy. Eyes telling Dean how good this felt, how hard he wanted it. Dean moved the apron strings into one vice fist and curved his other hand around Cas's ribs, easing his sweaty body off the table.
Cas leaned up so that Dean's toned stomach was a whisper away from his arched back. Dean rode him crazily, pulling his head back and swirling their tongues together. The twisted forms of their bodies pulsating fiercely, racing one another towards an orgasm. Dean dug deep, pushing up so roughly that Cas was lifted up onto his toes.
"Close.. Gonna.." Dean kissed up the back of Castiel's neck, turning his head to reach his Adam's apple. The urge building inside him. The rhythmic churning of his hips edging him closer.
Cas swooped a hand round and held Dean's spiked, tousled hair, pushing Dean's face into him.
"Me too," he gasped.
Dean dropped a hand down and wrapped his fingers around Cas's needy cock. It only took two pumps and Cas was crying out, spilling over Dean's fingers and onto the table. Dean came almost instantly when he felt Cas's warm liquid oozing down his knuckles. Tremors smashed through his body. His cock vibrated inside Cas's clenched ass.
Cas collapsed down onto the table, lying in his own mess exhausted. Dean's dick slid out of him and he heard a zipper close up. He glanced up as Dean walked into view and his softening dick nearly hardened again when he saw Dean bring his wet hand up to his lips.
Dean lapped at the cum drizzling his hand, making a show for Cas, knowing his blue, gleaming eyes were watching him.
"So good, Cas," Dean said softly as he licked his lips, swallowing the mineral taste of the cum. He kept some of it on his mouth as he bent down and kissed Cas, letting him taste himself. When he pulled back an inch Cas was running his tongue along his upper lip intrigued at the flavour.
"Did you mean it? You want to take me on a date?" Cas chewed the inside of his mouth.
"How does tomorrow night work for you?" Dean winked.
"Sounds perfect," smiled Cas.
To be continued...